


Real Magic

by RidleyCJames



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RidleyCJames/pseuds/RidleyCJames
Summary: Tag for Episode 3:10. Magnus fulfills his promise to take care of Alec. With a little help from Catarina he realizes that the loss of his magic was not the worst fate.





	Real Magic

**Author's Note:**

> I could not get this much needed scene out of my head. I loved episode 3:10, but needed to see the fallout of Alec's injury. I'm sure this has been written about in the fandom but alas I am late to the game and couldn't help myself.

“Real magic can never be made by offering someone else’s liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.” –Peter S. Beagle

RcJ

Magnus Bane used to think his dreams were incredibly vivid due to them being spun with magic, visions wrapped in all the vibrancy and surreal technicolor that his power allowed. Certainly, he believed being a warlock was what ensured his nighttime dalliances to be so achingly real. Sometimes his ability to fall asleep and seemingly be transported back in time to moments in his past was breathtakingly bittersweet-a thing that spoke of a gift from the angel or perhaps a curse from demon kind, like so much of his existence.  
On a good night, he might relive triumphant battles or wildly risqué nights with a sexual conquest, but more often than not, he found himself reunited with loved ones for but a REM cycle. The heart-rending downside being that they were gone again with the morning sun, lost to him once more when vanquished by light as sure as if they bore the curse of his fellow Downworlders, the night children, who-sans Simon-were unable to walkabout in the bright of day. 

Magnus would not have minded that some memories from his past be permanently staked in their grave, never to rise again. For instance, the most recent one that he had fallen victim to, and which had him trapped in the relentless throws of its power. A power that could have nothing to do with his magic it seemed as Magnus for all intents and purposes was no longer a warlock. 

On some level Magnus understood he was only dreaming but his panic was as certain and overwhelming as it had been in real time. Returning from Edom to find his boyfriend being straddled by Jace, Alec’s parabatai obviously intent on driving an arrow through his chest, was not something Magnus had expected. It was most assuredly not the kind of traumatic scene one wanted to endure a second time around. Unfortunately, Magnus’s psyche was not finished ruminating on the matter and despite his magic being gone the replay was just as intense as his old dreams had ever been when they were imbued with his abilities. He had the brief thought that he perhaps should have paid more attention when his old friend, Freud, tended to drone on about all his theories of why and how and for what purpose a body rehashed trauma while one slept.  
At the moment, however, his mind was too caught up in the ways that he was failing as Alec’s boyfriend. 

“Magnus, please. You have to fix him.” Jace had slid to his knees on the other side of Alec, one hand going to the other Shadowhunter’s shoulder, a silent gesture of what Magnus had demanded only seconds before- ‘stay with me’. 

Magnus couldn’t look at him, his own shock and dismay too crippling to see it reflected in another’s face as he confessed the awful truth. “I can’t.” The words tasted of ash and brimstone on his tongue. 

“You can’t?” Jace sounded astounded in the way only one born of angel blood could pull off, and Magnus’s father’s chides tolled silent in his mind-what will the Shadowhunters want with you when you are of no purpose to them. “What do you mean you can’t?” Jace demanded.

Magnus felt himself falter, even as Alec grunted in pain again. This was not something he had put much thought into, unwilling as his heart was to even consider Asmodeus’s taunts for even a moment. “My magic. It’s gone…I traded it to break Lillith’s hold on you.” 

A quick glance revealed Jace’s face was as suspected a mixture of anguish and disbelief. But it morphed quickly, crumbling with remorse, slipping into a boyish and broken visage in a way that the typically ever confident and assured Nephilim never allowed. 

If it was possible, Jace appeared even more regretful. As if stabbing his brother, his parabatai, was not the farthest he could fall and Magnus realized the Shadowhunter was sorry for the travesty he believed he had brought on Magnus as well. Magnus, feeling unnaturally gutted himself by speaking the revelation out loud for the first time, merely continued to hold Alec’s hand, to gently cup the back of his neck as Jace produced his stele, placing it over the rune on Alec’s side. 

Alec jerked, his breath tripping as ancient angelic power activated through the bond to sustain him. He buoyed enough to focus his gaze on Jace, perhaps also picking up on the other man’s guilt and recriminations. 

“Jace, it wasn’t you,” he stammered, fierce in his determination to get the point across even if it was costing him much needed energy. Magnus loved Alec’s self-sacrificing nature, but also despised it, knowing one day it would be Alec’s downfall and Magnus’s undoing. Losing the Shadowhunter would break him.  
Magnus didn’t dare look at Jace again as Alec tried to reassure him. No, he kept his eyes affixed to his boyfriend as if by even averting his attention for a moment he might lose him. That was not something Magnus could even consider, not after sacrificing everything else that he held dear. He had never loved anyone or anything more than he loved his magic. Not until Alec Lightwood. 

A hoarse, choked sound came from Jace at Alec’s selfless words, almost as pain-filled as the noises Alec kept making, those little pants which seemed to pierce Magnus’s skin in sharp, fiery slices that reminded him of the time he allowed himself to be a guinea pig for Catarina’s new found interest in magical acupuncture. Only these needle-like daggers seemed to make it through bone and sinew to lodge directly in Magnus’s heart. 

“I’ll take care of him.” Magnus found his voice finally when they all seemed paralyzed by the impossibility of what was transpiring. He wasn’t sure how he’d accomplish the task, but he knew that he would. He would destroy worlds for Alexander.

Jace hesitated slightly, but then nodded, slipping the stele into Alec’s left hand, which Magnus was holding, then covering both of theirs with his own, announcing he was going after Clary. Love could be fickle, making a man feel completely inept or fully unconquerable. They were both cruel illusions. 

Only when Jace had gone did Alec look up at Magnus. “I’m sorry, Mag…” 

“Shhh,” Magnus brought his hand up, pressing a finger to the Shadowhunter’s lips. “Save your strength.” 

“Your magic…” Alec continued, a familiar stubbornness sparking through the misery filled hazel gaze he levelled on Magnus. 

“Is not what I’m concerned about at the moment,” Magnus insisted, emphatically. It wasn’t exactly true. Magnus was more than concerned about the fact he no longer had his magic, that he’d given it to Asmodeus, because he currently had no way to help render aid to his boyfriend who for all he knew could be dying. Where once he’d have waved a hand over the injured Shadowhunter, pushed his magic into all the places that were damaged, checking vitals and managing the pain, Magnus had no way to even know where to begin, not even the herbs or potions from his home. “You are the only thing I’m worried about.” 

“I need an iratze…” Alec choked. “The arrow…” 

“Has to come out first.” Magnus did not relish inflicting more pain, but knew that Alec was right. He had treated Nephilim for centuries, had been taught by the Silent Brothers on what to do. If he’d had magic, he’d numbed Alec to what was coming. Iratze healing runes were indeed useful in controlling pain, fighting off shock and closing wounds to stop blood loss but they were not pleasant in the beginning. They also did little for internal bleeding, and punctured lungs, but it would sustain Alec until they could reach Catarina or The Institute. He’d always had his magic to aid in the process. He was no angel, after all, and counted on his own methods. 

“Hurts to breathe…” Alec choked, his long, elegant fingers actually now gripping Magnus’s wrist, fumbling with the stele.

“I know, just stay with me, Alexander. You’ll have to draw the rune.” Magnus was not sure what would happen if he tried. Countless night’s he’d traced the different glyphs on Alec’s body, trailed kisses over the intricately, glorious designs, his lips holding an ability to ignite an energy no stele possessed. He knew what enhancement each one endowed and had proved he could elicit a powerful charge of his own. Magnus recognized countless other Nephilim symbols from other Shadowhunters he’d healed, but he had never tried to utilize the angel magic himself, fearing what they may demand as punishment for his audacity and blasphemy. 

He took the stele from Alec’s left hand, reaching for the Shadowhunter’s right one. He’d barely touched it when his boyfriend cried out. 

“Broken…” Alec choked. “Magnus…Jace snapped it.” 

“I see that now.” Magnus was amazed that his voice stayed calm, even as a white fury broke inside him, like the wild waves of some storm-frenzied ancient sea. He understood Jace was not himself when he’d inflicted the damage, but for a fleeting moment he thought back to one of their earlier conversations when Jace had sworn he’d not let anyone hurt Alec, when Magnus had vowed the same. A small part of him wanted to exact revenge for the shattered covenant, but realized of course both of them had failed in numerous ways. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Alec grunted. His fingers brushed Magnus’s. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.” 

Surprising affection washed through Magnus. Alec’s heart was quite possibly the truest he’d known. Still, Magnus would have laughed at the audacious angel if he’d been able to muster even one ounce of light in the dark situation, but it seemed Alec’s anguish was an instant kill joy for him. Like medusa’s ability to turn men to stone with a glance, his boyfriend’s blood seemed to have a similar effect on Magnus’s sense of humor. 

“Perhaps I’ll be more confident of that when there’s not one of your deadly arrows protruding from your chest, my dear Eros.” Magnus attempted a smile at his teasing comparison of his boyfriend to the god of Love, who also touted a bow and brought chaos wherever he strode, but knew he’d failed miserably when Alec only closed his eyes with another groan.

“Just get it out, Magnus.” 

“I will, Alexander, as soon as you draw the rune.” He ran a quick hand over his boyfriend’s hair, swallowing the surge of bile that had climbed up the back of his throat to wedge itself there. There was a sudden image of another love he’d lost on a battlefield and he had to use every bit of his will to force it from his mind as he gathered his wits about him. Fear often masqueraded as regret and grief.

“Help me.” Alec lifted his head, and Magnus quickly placed a hand beneath his neck once more, his other fingers, holding Alec’s left hand as he shakily drew the iratze. “It won’t activate until…” 

“I know.” Magnus had only been without his magic for a blink of an eye and it was as Asmodeus predicted, he missed it desperately already. He felt impotent and inconsequential without it, physically ached for the ability to wave a hand over the archer’s instrument of peril and dissolve it from Alec’s body, making it disappear with a spark of blue electric energy with no more pain than that of a freeing a splinter from a lion’s paw. Thoughts of his father’s cruel jeers gave him the fortitude he needed to do it the mundane way-as he would soon learn to do many tasks he supposed- and he wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Magnus hated the way Alec jerked with the movement, detested that his touch was for the first time ever causing pain instead of offering solace or invoking passion. 

He jerked it up and out. Alec screamed. It was primal and set every nerve ending of Magnus’s on edge. The cry was almost as agony filled as the one that had been torn from Alex when Jace had been killed by Valentine. Magnus had been powerless to help then, no angelic or warlock power useful in assuaging the pain of a lost parabatai. Witnessing the cruelty of that moment had been one of the driving forces in Magnus’s decision to do whatever it took to keep Alec from being hurt that way again. It seemed he’d only been partly successful. 

Magnus consoled himself with the fact that at least this temporary pain, although as real and as violent, was at least treatable-not by him, but Catarina, who’d he’d call as soon as he could find Alec’s phone. He steeled himself against the sounds of his boyfriend’s misery and gripped Alec’s hand even as he tossed the arrow aside. Magnus pulled Jace’s stele, gripped tightly in Alec’s fingers over the iratze Alec had already traced. The rune glowed to life and Alec made another choked sound, actually curling his body towards Magnus now that he was free of the arrow, his broken arm pressed against his chest. 

“Easy.” Magnus dropped a hand to the younger man’s head. “I’m here. Stay with me.” It’s all he asked. Stay. Please stay. 

Alec pressed closer, the move appearing instinctual and Magnus was once more slammed with the realization he was no longer a fortress of protection, at least not in the way he’d once been. Alec, one to seek shelter only in the most desperate of times, humbled him and frightened him into action. 

“Your phone, Alexander? Where’s your phone?” Magnus barely kept the frenzy from bleeding into his voice. He had not bothered with his own phone when he left for Edom. He had not been joking when he quipped that cell reception was non-existent. Demons had no such need for mundane communication devices. But now…now he was desperate as any millennial had ever been without his. 

“Pocket.” Alec’s voice was muffled, a mere echo of his usual rumbling honey and whiskey vocals, his face pressed against Magnus’s knee. 

Magnus made haste, sensing something crackling in the air around them. He didn’t need his magic to recognize a threat. Death and destruction were close, cloaked in the pregnant silence. 

“Catarina,” he breathed at the same time she spoke Alec’s name in surprise at the call. Magnus’s hand tightened on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I need you. We need a portal to The Institute.” Magnus had feared she would mention Lorenzo’s edict, but she only gave an abrupt ‘where’. He rattled off their location, then dropped the phone as his eyes were suddenly drawn to the building Jace had run towards, his body tensing in an odd prophetic anticipation. An instant later an explosion of magic erupted from the top of the high rise, the powerful bomb blast sending a red plume mushrooming into the blackened sky. 

Debris and flames showered the ground around them. Magnus lifted his free hand in the air, muscle memory ready to conjure a magical shield about them. Only no blue energy flowed from his nimble fingers. Heart sick, he offered what he could, curling his body over Alec’s in a desolate attempt to protect the Shadowhunter from further harm, pulling him  
as close as physically possible, Alec’s panted breath, warm and moist on his neck. 

“What’s happening?” Alec’s words were graveled. 

What, indeed? Magnus squeezed his eyes shut, offering an old prayer he hadn’t brought forth in hundreds of years. No one had listened then as his mother lay dead and cold on her bed. He feared no one heard now. 

“Magnus!” 

He jerked at the touch to his back, as if he’d been struck by burning rubble. Only, when he lifted his gaze there was no more falling embers, nor eerie red glow from what he now understood was Lillith’s banishment by Simon’s use of The Mark of Cain. Instead fluorescent glare from overhead threatened to burn his retinas and he felt tired and stiff in a way he’d never known. 

Lifting his gaze, blinking, he found Catarina. This time she hadn’t appeared through a portal, but through the doors of the medical wing at The Institute. He was almost as happy to see her as when she’d come for them in the street. 

Magnus pushed himself up from where he’d been slumped over Alec’s bedside, rubbing his eyes. 

“As usual, your timing has never been more impeccable, darling.” Magnus was certain he’d said something similar when she’d showed up to transport he and Alec. He meant it then and almost as much now as she had spared him the rest of the awful dream, the part where Alec had screamed for Jace, called out to Magnus to help him, and then promptly stopped breathing, going deathly still beneath Magnus’s touch. 

Catarina looked from Magnus to the unconscious Shadowhunter on the bed. Alec was pale, the dark bruises beneath his eyes not completely hidden by his feathery lashes, but at least his chest rose steadily now. “You foolish, warlock. What have you done?” 

She had also inquired something similar upon finding them, Alec broken and bleeding, leaden in Magnus’s arms, the world burning around them. Now though, her dark eyes held more exasperation than the fear they had before. “I thought I told you to go take a shower, get some food but have you listened? You haven’t left his side in hours.” 

“I couldn’t leave him.” Magnus’s answer once more held the same sentiment, even if the words he’d choked on before had been completely different. ‘What I had to,’ he’d whispered it to her, seeing the horror reflected on her face when she sensed what he was missing. 

Catarina took a seat on the edge of the mattress near the chair Magnus had pulled close. She was watching him but he kept his gaze on his and Alec’s entwined hands.  
“I told you he was through the worst of it. Alec will be fine, Magnus.” 

Manus knew that wasn’t true. Alec had not yet been awake long enough or actually coherent in the few times he’d stirred in feverish delirium to be told about their most recent loss. He’d only asked for Magnus, for Jace. It had taken both of them to coax him back to healing sleep. Still Magnus gave Catarina a brief nod, a half smile he didn’t feel. “He’s doing better then?” 

Catarina seemed to understand he needed her to assure him again, with more than words. She lifted her hands, running them over Alec’s chest, the blue energy of her magic drawing Magnus like a moth to the flame. He ached to wield it, and so moved his gaze back to Alec’s face. When she was finished she looked at him. 

“The Silent Brothers were able to heal his ribs and punctured lung and his breathing is much improved,” Catarina continued, obviously not noticing Magnus’s wince at the mention of the injuries or the way he must have paled as he practically could feel the blood drain from his face. “The fractured wrist will be as good as new in a few days thanks to the healing runes. You could go and tend to yourself. You’re not exactly fresh as a new morning.” 

“I still feel like he needs me here.” Magnus gave her credit for not pointing out that his magic was gone and would be quite ineffectual in rendering anything Alec needed, medically speaking. He’d told her, of course. Poured out every detail as they waited for the Silent Brothers to heal Alec. Recanting every awful moment with Asmodeus had somehow been like penance. It had also kept his mind from conjuring outcomes that had him losing the love of his life. 

Her hand found his arm, giving a gentle squeeze. “He will be okay, Magnus. Both of you will.” 

“I’m only worried about Alec.” He’d made his choices and would live with the consequences, but suspected he didn’t stand much chance of survival without the Shadowhunter who’d somehow fulfilled Ragnor Fell’s posthumous prophecy and obliterated everyone of Magnus’s typical walls. It was just his luck that the man to do so would be a mortal. 

“Then I will have to be the one to worry about you.” Catarina tilted her head, catching his eye. She waved a hand and Magnus gratefully found himself in a change of clothes, physically refreshed if not mentally restored. When he gave her a grateful smile, she shrugged. “Now tell me how are you doing? Really?” 

“I feel as if I’m still reeling,” He answered honestly, watching as she stood and made her way around the bed to check the monitor showing Alec’s vitals. Another smile touched his lips when he watched her push Alec’s unruly black hair back from his forehead, much like she might do for Madzie when tucking her into bed. He sighed. “First Jace was revealed to be the Owl, then the discovery that I’d been a crucial part of Lillith’s nefarious plan to secure his conversion. Now…” He waved his hand over Alec, turned his gaze back to Catarina who seemed satisfied with her patient’s status and was now studying him with her dark, intense gaze. He swallowed thickly at the concern he saw. “And Clary is gone.” 

“As well as your magic.” Catarina nodded, gravely. “Both great losses.” 

“My magic was not a living thing.” Magnus didn’t mean to speak so harshly, but his tone was sharp as the point of one of Alec’s arrow heads. He thought of the old jab about those who protest too much. “People are so much more valuable. You believe that as well as I do.” 

“Which is why you felt exchanging your powers for Jace Herondale’s life was an easy trade.” 

“There was nothing easy about handing my magic over to my father.” Magnus once more wrapped his fingers around Alec’s wrist, buoyed and anchored by the steady beat of his pulse. It had been terrible; a violation, one he couldn’t begin to put words to for fear that they might invoke the feelings he was working very hard to keep tightly locked away. He  
kept his voice low. “But Jace…Jace was more important.” 

“Because he’s Alec’s parabatai?” The question was not meant to be cruel or baiting, because of all of Magnus’s fellow warlock’s Catarina was by far the most tolerable of Shadowhunters, and generous with her magic when they needed. Others might scoff at his affection for Nephilim, but not Catarina.  
Magnus ran his thumb over the smooth skin of the inside of Alec’s wrist, comforted by the coolness there, the look of unmarred marble. “He told me he would be nothing without Jace. They are intricately bound to one another. I couldn’t stomach the idea of Alexander not whole.” 

Magnus had noticed from the beginning of his association with Alec Lightwood that the young Shadowhunter believed Jace was the sun, where Alec considered himself a much lesser star, his light faint compared to that of his brother’s brilliance. He’d hoped that was changing, that Magnus’s tendency to stare mesmerized at Alec, to prefer to be bathed in his incandescence perhaps shed a glimmer of illumination on the fact that Alexander Lightwood should not, nor could not be dulled by anyone, even someone as bright as Jace. If Jace were the sun, then Alec was the moon. Just as worthy of worship, the kind of light that bathed poets, lovers, and heroes voyaging home from battle. 

“And again, what of you?” Catarina frowned, folding her arms over her chest. Her fierce protection of him was touching. “Your magic has been with you since birth, Magnus. Magic may not be a living and breathing thing that can exist independently of us, but it’s as much a part of who we are as any necessary organ. Yes, parabatai bonds are incredibly powerful, but they are not woven into the very fiber of one’s being, not imperative at a molecular or cellular level.” 

Magnus wasn’t sure that was true. 

He set up straighter, giving a slight shake of his head. He was growing weary of the conversation and stared at Catarina, willing her to understand. “I love him, Cat. I could not risk losing him.” 

“So it is more a matter of the heart.” A faint smile tipped her full lips, and she moved to his side once more, actually bending to plant a soft kiss on the top of his head. Her voice dropped. “Just wait until the great and cunning Asmodeus, prince of Hell, realizes he failed to take your real magic.” 

Slightly stunned by her kind words, she had already turned on her heal and was walking away before he could respond. She did lift her hand and with a flourish, a plate of wonderful smelling waffles and lush fruit appearing on the table near the door in her wake. Magnus smiled at the gesture, touched that she was always watching out for him. When he returned his gaze to the patient, his mood was even greater improved as warm hazel eyes regarded him. 

Magnus’s heart lurched. “Hey, pretty boy.” He leaned forward, bringing Alec’s hand in his up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the Shadowhunter’s knuckles. “There you are.” 

“Hey.” Alec’s voice was sleep roughened, barely above a whisper. He blinked, looking more coherent than he had the other times he’d fought his way to consciousness. “You okay?” 

“I’m much better now that you’re awake.” When Alec frowned, Magnus forced a smile. “I wasn’t hurt, Alexander.” 

“What happened?” 

“You were injured by the Owl.” Magnus let go of Alec’s hand, standing to go to the head of the bed, helping his boyfriend sit up some with the aid of a few precisely placed pillows. “What do you remember?” 

Alec blinked again, watching him. In a second, his eyes gaze went from filled with slight confusion to full on terror. “Jace!” 

“Is fine.” Magnus moved quickly, placing both hands on the Shadowhunter’s shoulders. It wasn’t exactly true. Jace was a wreck, but physically intact. He’d come by to sit with Alec, telling Magnus what he knew of the aftermath of Lillith. How Clarey had been MIA, and what Simon believed had happened. The whole time he’d talked, his gaze had stayed steadfast on his parabatai’s face, as if he were confessing some great sin to his brother. It had softened Magnus’s heart for him further. 

“Where…” Alec struggled weakly against his hold, eliciting a grimace when his wounded chest protested the sudden movement. 

“He was here through the night, but he’s resting now.” Magnus didn’t know if that were accurate. In fact, he suspected there would be little respite for the other Shadowhunter for some time to come, but aside from outright lying, he’d tell Alec whatever he needed to hear to keep him calm. “In his quarters.” 

“It wasn’t him.” Alec said again, his energy seeming to fail as he sank heavily against the pillows, his eyes once more seeking Magnus’s. 

“I know.” Satisfied that Alec wasn’t going to try and get up, he let his grip fall away and claimed a seat on the mattress. He rested one hand gently on Alec’s chest, more for his own reassurance than any sort of restraint. The other he used to push back Alec’s hair in a fashion much like Catrina had used earlier. “Rest is something you need as well, Alexander.” 

“How long have I been out?” Stubbornness sparked and Magnus couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his mouth. Alexander Gideon Lightwood was quite possibly the most exasperating person he’d ever encountered. Luckily it was a trait Magnus admired. Along with his countless other qualities. Both his amazing body and dazzling grin aided in taking the edge off his bent toward dogged determination and prickliness when challenged.

He ran the back of his fingers along Alec’s cheek, amazed as always at the beauty he’d been blessed with. Inside and out. Alec most definitely was not just a pretty face. “Almost ten hours.” Ten horrible hours that seemed much more like ten days. 

Alec’s brow wrinkled and he looked down at his bandaged arm. “Was Catarina here?” 

“She was.” Magnus sat up straighter, sensing he was not going to escape the hard conversation to come. “She helped the Silent Brothers with your treatment.” 

“Because your magic…” Alec hesitated, a look like physical pain contorting his lovely face. Magnus winced. His boyfriend was a juxtaposition in many ways. Wise, but stunningly innocent. Strong, yet achingly vulnerable. Confident on the battlefield, but adoringly unsure in many respects. The kind of anomaly that charmed gods, and obviously ensnared century old warlocks. “Is it really gone? Did I dream that?” 

Magnus refrained from saying he wished it had been only a dream. “How about we save that conversation for when you’re feeling stronger and when I have access to as many cocktails as possible.” At Alec’s deepening frown, he insisted, “I promise I’ll tell you all about it, Alexander, but right now, I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

“Is everyone else alright?” Alec reached up and captured Magnus’s hand, entwining his fingers with the other man’s. “Tell me.” 

“Izzy and your mother, they are both well.” Magnus glanced down at their joined hands, tightening his hold fractionally, grateful when Alec responded in kind. “They have all stopped in and checked on you. Izzy only left at your mother’s insistence that she too get some sleep.” 

“Magnus?” 

The soft entreaty had Magnus lifting his gaze, his eyes finding Alec’s. “There was an explosion when Lillith attempted to attack Simon. Cain’s mark did the job of destroying her, or at least banishing her back to Edom where she belongs.” 

“I remember…” Alec’s hand tightened once more on his, the intensity almost painful. “The building blew up and the sky was on fire.” 

“Yes,” Magnus relived the scene in his mind’s eye, the immense power he felt imbibing the very air molecules around them. He might have been stripped of magic but he still had demon blood flowing in his veins and dark recognized dark. “Catarina arrived right after and used a portal to bring you here just in the nick of time as you…” Magnus swallowed, unable to finish his sentence. “You were in critical condition and I couldn’t help you.” 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Alec didn’t choose to acknowledge his own brush with death. Magnus was also willing to ignore it until he could get his hands on those martinis. 

“Clary is unaccounted for,” Magnus finally explained. “She disappeared in the explosion.” 

“Clary’s dead?” Alec’s voice broke and Magnus wished not for the first time that he had the ability to shield the Shadowhunter from pain. Even when he’d had his magic that had been an impossibility. 

Disbelief colored his boyfriend’s hazel gaze, guilt quickly following. It might have taken Alec a while to allow others in his close knit circle of those he called his own, but once a person was in, they were fiercely guarded and became a responsibility Alec took on wholeheartedly. “But, Jace…”

“Jace, Simon and Luke searched everywhere for Biscuit. There was no body, but also no signs of her fate. Lorenzo Ray even used his magic to comb the area, but could find no trace.”

“But it’s possible she escaped…” 

“Of course,” Magnus agreed softly. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Alec’s, his own heart aching with grief. “Haven’t I told you, Alexander? When a man born of angels loves one cast from demons, the possibilities are endless.” 

Only the sound of their breathing filled the room for a long moment, then Alec murmured, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Alexander.” Magnus took a breath, savoring the balm of the words. An incantation in its own right. He inhaled deeply, traces of his favored shampoo and the scent that was Alec alone detectable even over the medicinal ones now lingering on the Shadowhunter. “We’ll scour the city as soon as your well,” Magnus swore. “I promise no stone will be unturned.” 

“I’m sorry,” Alec declared breathlessly. 

Magnus lifted his head at the unexpected declaration, concern for his boyfriend’s breathing once more the forefront in his mind. He rested his palm against Alec’s cheek. “For what?” 

“All of it.” Alec appeared to use monumental effort to force his eyes open even a sliver. He looked not only hurt, but exhausted, on the verge of being pulled back to unconsciousness at any second. His voice was worn and weary. “Jace, Clarey, you losing your powers…I should have…” 

“Alexander,” Magus interrupted, bending down again this time to cut off his boyfriend’s words with a kiss. “As long as I have you, there will always be magic in my life.” Magnus felt a rush of heat pass through him, an undeniable sense of relief at the truth Catarina had given him. Hope also wove a powerful spell, and he would owe her for reminding him of that charm. He gave a small smile against Alec’s warm, chapped lips. “You, and gin, that is.” 

It appeared his sense of humor had thawed as Alec’s condition improved, but he was worried when his boyfriend didn’t respond for he could always make Alec smile, even before the Shadowhunter had loved him. Lifting his head, Magnus saw that the bad joke wasn’t to blame but that the patient had succumbed to the pull of sleep. He pressed another kiss lightly to his boyfriend’s forehead before sitting back up with a weary sigh of his own. 

The smell of waffles caught his attention then, his eyes going to the cart Catarina had filled with food. His stomach grumbled in a demanding fashion as it had never done before and he felt lightheaded under the gauntlet of his worry and exhaustion. Threadbare. Tired. Perhaps his true age was catching up now that his immortality had been torn away.  
In another time, he’d have snapped his fingers and brought the food to him. Instantly satiated his every desire. But with another glance at Alec sleeping peacefully, he stood and made his way to his breakfast. He picked up a strawberry, anticipating the sweetness on his tongue. The expected lushness proved a disappointment, his taste buds no longer imbibed with electric energy. In fact, the food tasted dull, like cold gruel, and he couldn’t help but to wonder at how his other senses might be affected. It seemed his dreams might be the only thing spared and unchanged by his new condition. 

Another look towards Alexander, the faint, but delicious taste of their kiss still on his lips, Magnus forced himself to swallow the damn berry. Then another. He consumed a waffle, nearly whole. Amazed when he kept the food down, a dark knowing settling in the pit of his stomach along with the bitter fruit and pastry. This was likely only the first of many foreign and unwelcome experiences to come, but he would carry on, he would survive, in spite of what his father had predicted, clinging to the promise that with Alec by his side, he could endure absolutely anything. 

The End.


End file.
